Shooting Stars
by grim grace
Summary: "What would you wish for?"-The Doctor tell Amy what he needs to say. Please R&R! Amy/11!


**Because apparently I'm good at writing Amy and Eleven, I've decided to do another. This one isn't quite so nicely fit into the canon storyline, and the planet and the concept can basically be brought anywhere. I can tell you though, that it follows the wonderful snog in episode five—and Rory **_**is**_** with them at this stage. (Am I the only one who feels terrible for Rory? Poor guy…)**

**Anyway, enjoy. I hope you like the second one shot I have created for the wonderful couple. **

**Disclaimer: ****Don't own anything you recognize. This is completely non-profit, and entirely for fun. Please enjoy.**

**11/AMYx11/AMYx11/AMYx11/AMYx11/AMYx11/AMYx11/AMYx11/AMYx**

Amy frowned, staring up at the sky. Of course, she loved this part. Not just the sitting with the Doctor—who, by the way, she still couldn't believe was actually _here—_and looking at the new sky, and the new ground and the new _planet_ or _star_ or _galaxy_ that the Doctor has decided she would like this time. It certainly wasn't _just _that.

Well, it wasn't _all_ that.

The TARDIS jolted a little, and the doctor jerked the small piece of string he held in his hand. The string was attached to a part of the TARDIS controls, and was basically the only thing that was keeping the TARDIS steady as she hovered above the planet _Dee'Torrnaxyn _with the purple sky and the violet seas of something that the Doctor has sworn was actually very similar to something that was nothing like water (H20, he had specified, at which she rolled he eyes) at all.

"The skies aren't actually purple," The doctor was explaining, as he turned his attention back to the view outside.

He and Amy were both sitting on the edge of the TARDIS door, their legs hanging out the front, and swinging slightly in the wind. The TARDIS was hovering—very stable, thanks to the piece of string in the Doctor's hand—in the middle of the sky, just above the clouds so that the people of _Dee'Torrnaxyn _didn't get too alarmed.

"The purple colouring is only a result of the chemicals in the air, and the light pane reacting off each other to produce the reflection in your eyes." The Doctor said. "The same thing happens on earth. I can see all the colour reflecting off each other, you see, here and there. It's rather pretty—although, it's a little annoying to see how often earth disregards the colour _beige._"

Amy frowned for a moment. "Why?" She asked smirking. "Beige is a terrible colour."

The Doctor looked terribly affronted at that.

"Excuse me?" he demanded, worried. "Beige is a _wonderful_ colour." He stated bluntly. Amy raised a lone eyebrow still smirking. The Doctor stared at her face for a moment—and for the billionth time, Amy wished she could know exactly what he was thinking.

She wasn't left in the dark for long, however. When he finally pulled his gaze away from her face he licked his lips quickly and flushed a little. Having been a kiss-o-gram for a good three and a half years of her life, she knew the face of a man who was considering—or at least thinking about—kissing her.

She didn't act on it though, aside from smirking knowingly and waiting for the Doctor to continue.

"What did _beige_ ever do to you?" The Doctor asked indignantly, reigniting their conversation and forgetting about the momentary loss of control on his part.

Amy smirked.

"Whatever." Amy said offhandedly—she was tired of talking about the colour beige. It was an ugly colour. Her aunt had been particularly fond of the colour. Always made her wear a beige dress to Church—which she wasn't allowed to get dirty.

And, quite frankly, it _itched. _

"So, what are we doing here then?" She asked, leaning forward and peering down at the sheer drop beneath her feet. It sent a rush of excitement through her veins.

Or—the thrill could have been a result of the cautious hand that the Doctor wrapped around her arm to ensure she didn't fall.

Probably the latter.

Amy knew she shouldn't be thinking like this. For gods sake, Rory was sleeping only a walk away back inside the TARDIS. A nagging voice inside her head reminded her that Rory slept like a tranquilized sloth, and she really didn't have anything to worry about—but Amy quickly disregarded it. Which, she thought, was something she really shouldn't do.

As Amy pulled herself back again, so she was comfortably inside the TARDIS again, the Doctor's hand quickly left her arm, and she reminded herself that her easy disregard of Rory and his feeling was what had him here now. If she hadn't kissed the Doctor—and ignored the concept of Rory and her engagement—then he wouldn't have felt the need to grab Rory and take him on their ridiculous date. (Not that she regretted Venice. I mean, come on. _Venice.) _

Amy sighed quietly—instantly recognising the awkward silence that had haunted her and doctor since that night in her room.

"So…" She said, searching for a conversation starter. God seemed to be on her side at that moment, and provided one, sending a shooting bright (_blue)_ light through the sky. "…Uh, was that a shooting star?" Amy asked slowly.

The Doctor was peering at the space where it had been with interest. "A comet, actually." He reminded her. "There's not such thing as a shooting star…" He hesitated. "Well, not at _Dee'Torrnaxyn. _There are _shooting_ stars at the Fredian Belt, but they're literal shooting stars. If you go within three metres of them then they shoot this burning magma at you—stings a bit, I tell you from experience…"

He was rambling again.

Had Amy mentioned how _adorable_ the doctor was when he rambled?

He always rambled about the strangest things. Stars that shot people, fish that looked like vampires, angels and counting backwards from ten (a game she would _never _look at the same way again,) big whales in space with civilizations on their backs. He knew something about everything—and he was always teaching her about it all.

"…I didn't even mean to offend them. To put it simply, they're just guards. And I was just trying to speak with their _Tuurn_ about how he ruled things at that particular belt and they took it the wrong way. Although, in hindsight, calling him a rock faced coward was probably not the best course of action, but really, when you think about it…"

It was _sweet_ how fascinated he was with every single thing in the entire universe.

"Can you wish on them?" Amy asked, interrupting the Doctor from his ramblings.

For a moment, the Doctor looked confused—jolted out of his story telling mode, and frowning slightly at what the question meant. He did the math relatively quickly.

"Wish?" he echoed. "On the comets?" He pointed, rather obliviously, at he spot in the sky where the shooting star had shot past.

"On the shooting stars." Amy corrected him with a frown.

The Doctor thought about this in his head for a moment, and then seemingly decided to go along with it. He had taken enough of her childhood away by leaving and not coming back—surely he could afford to call the comets shooting stars. He did not, however, decide to lie to her.

"Wish on the shooting stars then?" He queried, frowning slightly.

Amy nodded.

"Why?" The Doctor asked before answering.

Amy shrugged. "Well, because your smart, you're an alien, and I'm sure you know whether or not you can wish on them or not."

The Doctor shook his head. "No. Not 'why' would you ask me. I mean—why would you want to wish on a shooting star?"

Amy shrugged slightly, looking down at her converse covered feet, hanging some one hundred feet above the nearest hard surface. "I dunno." She said slowly. "Everyone has a wish, you know." She said simply.

The Doctor frowned.

"Well, yes. But what's yours?" He asked.

Amy frowned slightly. "Isn't that a bit personal, Doctor?" She asked, smirking. "What would _you_ wish for?" She asked.

The Doctor stared at her for a long time then. His eyes staring into hers, calculatingly. Like he was searching her soul and looking at everything—the clogs that made her mind work. The thoughts running through them. Like he could simply read her by looking at her face.

"You're right." He stated suddenly, looking away from her quickly and back out to the purple sky. "It is too personal."

Amy took his words like a kick to the gut—but with a deep breath she discarded that as well. She too, just looked back at the purple sky, and thought about the people there who had no idea that they were hovering above and watching their planet.

"Do they know about earth?" Amy asked, deciding to change the subject.

The Doctor took the opportunity gratefully. He shook his head. "This is a level three planet." He stated, as though she knew what he was talking about. He expanded, at one look at her blank features. "Earth is a level two. Basically, they made the brave space voyage to their own moon about a hundred years ago. They're getting on their feet now—making machines to go towards the neighbouring planet. They won't find anything there, but that's only because there the civilisation is completely underground."

Amy smiled a little, peering into the distance. "Which way is that planet?" She asked.

The Doctor lifted his finger, felt the way the wind was going and point directly below him. "Straight through the planet, on the other side." He told her.

"Can we go there?" She asked. The concept of underground civilisation sounded far too interesting for her to pass up.

The Doctor shook his head, but didn't expand on his refusal.

"Well, why not?" Amy asked.

The Doctor smirked. "They're an entirely meat eating civilisation." He said. "They'll eat anything soft enough for them to sink their teeth into. Including you, or I." He paused for a moment. "Or lover-boy in there." He motioned back inside the TARDIS where they both knew Rory was asleep.

Amy looked alarmed, and subconsciously pulled her legs a little further into the TARDIS. She opted to ignore the trace of bitterness that she heard in the Doctors voice as he referenced Rory.

"What about the _Dee'Torrnaxyn—_ians?" She demanded quickly. "Do they get eaten?"

"The _Dee'Torrnaxynites." _The Doctor corrected her, before answering her question. "And no. Their skin is thirty-six percent iron, and fourteen percent steel. It gives them a blue sort of tinge—and running into them hurts like hell. But it makes them far too tougher meal for their neighbors to eat."

Amy was oddly reassured at that.

As she and the Doctor began to sink into their old, comfortable conversation, Amy was extremely irritated to watch another two shooting stars—ahem, _comets—_shoot past.

Both she and the Doctor were silent. The awkwardness of their previous conversation returned instantly, and Amy flinched slightly as the Doctor suddenly stopped talking.

"Uh…" Amy said, trying to restart their conversation. Then she took a deep breath. "I'd wish that you and I had a redo." She said, hoping that her telling him this wouldn't freak him out more than she had before. "I'd wish that you didn't miss those last two years."

The Doctor stared at her.

"I was so ready to come with you then." She said with a sigh. "My life was good—I wasn't tied down to anything—" _or anyone,_ "—and I had seen you do this great thing. But then you just disappeared. And that time I really didn't think you were coming back." She sighed again.

"Why didn't you think I was coming back?" The Doctor asked.

Amy shrugged. "Everything was finished. The crack in my wall had been dealt with. Prisoner Zero was gone, and the big eyeball spaceship thingy was gone as well. There was no _reason _for you to come back."

The Doctor was silent for a moment. Then he said quietly (so quietly Amy almost missed it,) "You were the reason I came back."

His words sent a rush through Amy familiar to the one she had when she recognized him for the first time—after knocking him unconscious with her cricket bat. The same thrill she got when she opened her eyes and didn't die.

Amy smiled. "Still," She said, managing to remain relatively calm. "I'd wish that you didn't leave. It would have made things so much more… _simple._"

Simple. It would have made things simpler. Things would have been uncomplicated. She wouldn't have been engaged to Rory. She wouldn't have been about to be married. She wouldn't feel guilty every time she considered kissing him. Because none of that would have happened.

The Doctor was silent.

He didn't look at her. He just stared out at the purple sky. He didn't even flinch or move. Instead he took a deep breath—still not looking at her. And then, he said something that stopped Amy from thinking about anything other than _him._

"I'd wish that I could keep you." He said suddenly.

Amy froze.

"Keep all of you," he continued, still not looking at her. "All of the people that I love, or have loved—I'd wish that I could keep you all. With me. Forever."

He sighed slightly.

"But I can't. Because the wishes don't _actually_ work. And when they do work, they always have bad repercussions. Cause and effect. Wishes are just a short cut, or a hope for an easy way out." He turned to Amy—finally catching her gaze.

The look of devastation in his eyes made Amy inhale so sharply, that she felt lightheaded. For the first time since she had known the Doctor—he looked _defeated._ He had been angry, worried, and nervous. He'd been scared (for her more so than himself.) He's been furious and he'd been excited and enthusiastic and funny.

He'd never _ever_ been defeated before.

"I'll stay with you." Amy said suddenly. "I will. I'll stay with you as long as I can."

The Doctor looked at her with his sad, defeated eyes. "I know you would." He said. "You all would have. But you can't. Because I'm a Time Lord. And you're human. And I'm the last. And I don't die."

_I don't die. _

And he looked shattered.

Amy took a deep breath. Over the course of their conversation, they had moved closer to each other—a primal instinct to comfort each other or something like that. She looked at him closely. The Doctor stared at her as well—his eyes once again looking at her so closely she could swear he was inside her head.

And what happened next shocked Amy to the bone.

The Doctor leant forward, moving so quickly she barely followed the movement, and pressed his lips to hers. Instantly, Amy knew what it was about. It was a source of comfort. He needed to be close to someone. Being lonely for so long had to mean moments of weakness like this every now and again. And she was comforting him. She could do that. So she did.

She kissed him back softly—this wasn't an indication of hidden passion. This wasn't the start of something more. This certainly wasn't the casual snog she had given him only a few days earlier. This was serious, slow, and simply a kiss. With one hand, she reached for his hair and played with it, softly. Slightly stroking his hair, and the skin beneath that hair—she continued to kiss him and let him comfort himself in her embrace. He brought one hand to her waist, resting it there and letting his thumb move softly across the material of another of her large woolen jumpers.

His tongue teased hers, as he kissed her with heavy breath. They sat there for an age—or the equivalent in Amy's mind—kissing her softly and seeking the comfort that the shooting star couldn't provide. When they did part, Amy closed her eyes. She didn't want that moment to end.

Here it came.

The speech about why this was wrong. About why that could never happen. About how Rory was in the other room (Oh god, _Rory.)_ About how she was human, and he was a time lord. About how he was nine hundred and seven years old.

Amy felt his hand grasp hers. "Come on," He murmured quietly. "It's time for you to get to bed."

Amy's eyes opened and she stared at him in amazement. He sighed, and helped her to her feet.

"No speech?" She asked quietly.

The Doctor reached out, and closed the doors to the TARDIS. He turned around, wrapping the string up around his hands, and walking back to the control panel.

"No speech." He said evenly. He then smiled slightly. "Come on." He said excitedly. "Tomorrow, I'll take you and Rory—" again he flinched a little at the mention of his name, "—to the Fluro moons of Cosetta." He said.

Amy stared at him, still completely bewildered by what was happening.

"Go get some sleep," The Doctor said softly. "Dream of better days Amelia Pond." He pressed a swift kiss to her temple and inhaled sharply, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. Then he turned back to the controls, and busied himself there.

Amy was still smiling as she fell asleep. And she was still smiling as she gripped the Doctors hand tightly the next day, running form her life from the homicidal wolf men (with towel like substance for hair, and smelt very distinctly of boiled eggs) of the Fluro moons of Cosetta chased after the two of them. (Rory had opted to stay in the TARDIS this time—the vampires had shaken him up a little.)

She loved her life with the doctor. And she wouldn't wish for anything else.

**11/AMYx11/AMYx11/AMYx11/AMYx11/AMYx11/AMYx11/AMYx11/AMYx**

**Would you like a little nachos to go with all that CHEESE! :P I hope you liked me second one shot for ELEVEN/AMY (best pairing ever) and I hope that I did them justice in your books. I know it was a little cheesy—but I still love them and hope that you guys loved reading this and much as I loved writing it. **

**Please don't favourite without leaving a review. (Even just say what your favourite part was or something) **

**Cheers, **

**G. **


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